


Postmortem Postscripts

by Lancre_witch



Series: Legacy of Gallowmere [4]
Category: Legacy of Kain, MediEvil (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Minor Injuries, Platonic Kissing, Razidan if you squint, gender roles are dead and I'm dancing on their grave, platonic fluff, post-Time Spanned Souls where the gang is based in Victorian London
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lancre_witch/pseuds/Lancre_witch
Summary: The day was saved, the war was won, and now an immortal vampire, an Egyptian princess and a legendary knight have to get to grips with modern society.In other words, a bunch of domestic ficlets. Humorous and heartfelt by turns.
Series: Legacy of Gallowmere [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769080
Kudos: 6





	1. No Trouble

For the fifth time that day, Kiya checked her appearance in a shop window and found it good. If there was any disarray in her hat or hair, the slight warping of the glass hid it from her.

Her blouse, she had been told, was both modern and stylish, and there were enough women wearing similar attire that she was willing to believe it. Her trousers were smart, practical, and technically Daniel's, but they did go excellently with these boots.

Really, she had no idea what all the sidelong glances and occasional outright staring were about. This was London, a seat of culture, so the professor had said. It wasn't like this was the first time these people would have seen skin that wasn't pasty pink.

She shrugged and walked on, at least until a polite yet firm hand clasped her shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss."

Kiya gave the policeman a polite nod.

"May I remind you of public decency laws? We don't want any trouble now, do we?"

"I'll be sure not to cause any," she said, and carried on walking.

"I think you'd better come with me, miss."

"I think you'd better go away. We don't want any trouble, do we?"

*

"You are so small. A tiny baby. Yes you are."

The cat bopped his nose with a still bandaged paw, and Raziel smiled. The fact that he could finally do so made him grin wider. If anyone else had woken him from a nap - a luxury that had been out of his grasp for centuries - they would have been subjected to the usual death glare. As it was, the recently reanimated cat was subjected to one of the soppiest smiles a vampire was capable of.

A sharp rap on the door made him frown. Still holding the cat, he got up to answer it.

He pulled the door open. "Yes?" he snapped.

The policeman took a step back, one hand still firmly on Kiya's shoulder, but quickly recovered himself. "Is this young woman yours?"

"She's her own." Raziel tilted his head questioningly. Almost imperceptibly Kiya shook her head. _No, you'll get blood on the carpet._

Oblivious to the silent exchange, the policeman rallied and began again, "I mean to say, we can't have her walking about like that, now, can we?"

He paused. It was dawning upon him that when a man answered the door in nothing but a deep red skirt that barely covered his knees, said man probably didn't care much for public decency laws.

Kiya took the opportunity to pull away from him and take the cat from Raziel, who promptly closed the door in the policeman's face.

"Just... dress appropriately next time, you hear?" he said to the solid oak, and left shaking his head. There were all sorts around these days.


	2. Gallowmere Traditions

There was a thud against the door. A few seconds later it came again.

And again.

It sounded like someone was trying to kick the damn door in. Considering Professor Kift was unlikely to appreciate boot prints on his front door, Raziel answered it. He pulled the door open sharply, and met Dan’s gaze over a precariously stacked armful of pumpkins.

“Daniel, what in the-”

“I’ll explain in the kitchen. Now please let me in before I drop the things.”

“Here, allow me…” Raziel took a couple of the more awkwardly positioned gourds and kicked the doors closed behind them.

“Right,” he said when the pumpkins were safely stacked on the kitchen table. “First of all, why?”

“Down at the market someone was selling them off while they’re still edible.”

“But why did you buy them?”

“It’s All Hallows Eve.”

“Yes? And?”

“It’s a tradition in Gallowmere, once the harvest is taken in, to get the pumpkins that are a bit battered or nibbled on, the ones that won’t last the winter, you know, and we’d make lanterns from them to hang outside the house.”

Raziel didn’t know. Human food was a closed book to him, and he wanted it to remain so. Still, he nodded. It wasn’t the oddest tradition out there, and it gave them something to do while Kiya and Kift had their meeting with the museum committee.

“So what exactly are we supposed to do with all these?”

Dan paused as practical questions became more relevant than nostalgia. “I think… first we need to cut the top open and remove the innards. I wish we had Granny Fortesque’s recipe book - she used to make the best pumpkin pies…” His eyes misted for a moment before his mind came back to the present. “Then carve a face into it and light a candle inside when it gets dark.”

“This would involve knives, correct?”

“Er, yes.”

“So what you are saying,” Raziel said, “is that when left to our own devices we are going to wave around sharp objects and make a mess of the kitchen?”

Dan considered this.

“Essentially, yes.”

“Then give me one moment.”

Raziel vanished upstairs. While he was gone, Dan searched the cupboards for a large earthenware bowl and a selection of knives for carving. As he was laying them out on the table, Raziel returned. He placed the first aid kit on a spare corner of the table with a look that defied Daniel to object. He didn’t.

“We’ll get on then?” Dan rolled his sleeves up and plunged a short knife into his pumpkin with surprising force.

Raziel tried not to cringe as Dan sawed a circle around the stem altogether too close to his own fingers for comfort.

“I may have an idea…” he said.

Dan paused in scraping out his pumpkin innards to look. Historically, coming from Raziel, that was a dangerous phrase.

Raziel picked up a wide bladed knife and started stabbing the top of his pumpkin repeatedly.

“The hell? You’re supposed to take the top off, not stab it to death… oh.”

Raziel wrenched to top off with a look of triumph which quickly turned to disgust when he saw the mess inside.

Dan handed him a metal spoon and he set about hollowing out the pumpkin.

“You people eat this?” he asked as he scooped another dollop of orange mush into the bowl.

“Not as it is, obviously, but there’s a lot you can do with pumpkins. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin jam, pumpkin tarts, roasted pumpkin seeds. My granny made soup of the leftovers just so it didn’t go to waste. I’ll see if Kift’s got any recipes lying around afte- Aaargh!”

Dan dropped his knife, only just missing his foot, and clutched his thumb.

“You bloody… put it under the pump, quickly,” Raziel said as he scrambled for the first aid kit. “The last thing we want is any of the juice getting in the wound.”

Dan stumbled across to the pump, clutching his hand, and knocked a chair over on the way. He hissed when cold water hit the wound.

“How bad is it? Let me see.” Raziel pulled Daniel’s hand towards him. “Serrated blades always make such a mess. And for goodness sake, sit down before you fall.”

Dan whimpered and yelped as Raziel cleaned the wound and occasionally shushed him.

“All that blood,” he murmured. “You don’t do things halfheartedly, do you Daniel? There is no need for stitches, at least.”

He placed a clean gauze over the cut. “Hold that there for a moment.”

Dan pressed down on it and winced. He watched Raziel rummage through the box for a suitably sized bandage.

“Ah, here we are. Move your thumb… hand up… turn your wrist..” Raziel wound the bandage round and round until the dressing was secured. He tied it off and patted Dan’s arm.

Dan smiled at him, slightly sheepishly. “Thank you. Do you trust me to carry on after that?”

“Only if you keep your fingers well away from the knife. I do not want to ask Kiya to sew anything back on.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“When have I heard that before?” Raziel sighed and pulled the half finished pumpkin across the table towards them. “Why do you even have this tradition anyway? Knives and open flames sound like a recipe for disaster, and not simply due to your involvement. And put the knife down before answering, please.”

“My granny said it was to keep away the things that stalked the night somewhere between alive and dead. They were poor men’s gargoyles, just lasting long enough for the night they were really needed. Sometimes if we had a few gourds that were going manky we’d make other things as well. I remember one year Tim carved the most intricate floral pattern. When he lit the candle inside, it looked like you could pick those roses… Come to think of it, I never saw Zarok carve one, and none of the witches ever hung them out either. I suppose they had better ways of dealing with demons and the like.”

Raziel cut the last fang into his own pumpkin and tapped his claws against it for a few moments. “I wonder…”

He stood up. “Don’t stab yourself to death in my absence.”

“You have no faith in me,” Dan muttered.

He had finished carving one pumpkin and was starting on another by the time Raziel came back with a quill and ink pot.

“I see you have avoided any more self inflicted injuries. Excellent.”

Dan made a gesture with his good hand which Raziel chose to ignore as he started carefully drawing a design onto a fresh pumpkin. After a while, Dan stopped his careful scooping and looked over curiously. With a bit of smudging and nib scratching, Raziel was carefully scribing his clan symbol onto the bumpy orange surface with surprising skill.

Feeling like some unspoken challenge had been issued, Dan took a minute to look critically at his current project and decided he could make it better.

“Have you finished with that quill? I think you’re onto something there.”

“Mmh?” Raziel looked up from his carving, then the words registered and he handed the quill and pot over. “Oh, of course.”

Considering Daniel unlikely to injure himself with with a quill pen, Raziel went back to what he was doing until he got nudged again.

“Can you pass me that curved knife, please?”

“What for?” he asked suspiciously, looking at the blood which was starting to seep through the bandage.

“I want to take the skin off this bit so some of the light gets through. It’s the only way I can think to do the bifurcated shield.”

“Ah, I see. Try this one instead, it appears to be the same form as Melchiah’s favoured skinning knife.”

There was a pause.

“I realise, now, that this was not the best thing to say,” Raziel said.

*

Kiya and Professor Kift came back not long after dusk to a most ridiculously decorated porch. Several ghoulish faces leered at them, Gallowmere’s coat of arms and half the clan symbols of Nosgoth crowded around the doorway, all lit by flickering candles and carved on gourds.

“What- why-?”

Kiya looked to the professor, who looked just as confused as her.

“I haven’t the foggiest, although I suspect the other gentlemen of the house may. I’ll take upstairs if you take downstairs?”

Kiya found Daniel and Raziel in the kitchen in the middle of a scene of devastation. A chair was on its side, there was blood on the floor, a bandage around Dan’s hand, and practically every utensil they owned scattered about various work surfaces. The pies cooling on the side suggested that they had been cooking. Everything else suggested the kitchen had been a war zone.

“Dare I ask?”

“Welcome back,” Dan said cheerfully. “It’s an old Gallowmere tradition-”

“-Daniel-” Raziel began.

“-meant to bring good luck-”

“-yes, but Dan-” Kiya tried.

“-and keep away evil influences-”

“The oven’s on fire!” Kiya shouted.

“Oh hell!”


	3. Morning Ablutions

Raziel opened his eyes to the sound of metal on stone. Within a second he was rolling out of bed and reaching for his sword. Who knew what-

A glimpse of movement in the adjoining bathroom caught his eye. Raziel breathed out and let his sword fall.

"You have to be joking," he said.

"What?" Dan tuned around and lowered the whetstone from his straight razor.

"Daniel, you are going to slit your throat."

"It's a razor, not a torture implement. Honestly, anyone would think you don't trust me."

"I don't." Raziel gently took the straight razor from his hand.

"But I can't go out looking like this," Dan protested, running his hand over a few days' worth of stubble.

"I don't intent you to. Sit down."

Dan opened his mouth. He met Raziel's eye. He sat.

"Now hand me the whetstone."

Dan complied.

"Can I trust you with the hot towel or are you going to burn yourself?"

"You can trust me."

Raziel looked at him uncertainly, but picked up the whetstone and finished sharpening the razor.

"Cream or soap?" Raziel asked.

"Soap. It should be-"

Raziel patted his hand away. He picked up the cake of soap and dropped it into the mug with_ A present from Avernus_ printed in chipped letters on the side.

"You really don't have to do this," Dan began again as he brought the soap to a lather. "How do you know what to do anyway? I thought your lot didn't get facial hair."

Raziel tilted Dan's chin upwards and started applying the cream. "I would ask what you mean by _my lot_, but you would be correct either way. Nevertheless, Kain decided one day, in a sudden and wholly unique surge of paternal feeling, that his sons should know how to shave. May I begin?"

"Mmf," Dan tried to say around the foam, and nodded.

"Now for goodness sake, don't nod again." Raziel drew the blade in a smooth, steady stroke down his cheek. He ignored Dan's slight wince as claws met his skin.

"If you need me to stop, tap my hand. The one without the razor," he added.

Dan started to nod, then stopped himself. He made an incoherent noise of agreement. Raziel snorted softly. 

"Anyone would think you were still missing your jaw," he teased. "Look right. Up a little."

"Blame your_ pff_ overenthusiastic lathering up," Dan said, moving his mouth as little as possible.

Raziel took a tissue and blotted the excess from around his lips. "Better?"

"Better."

"Good. Head up."

Dan tried not to swallow as the blade glided down his neck. Raziel could kill him in half a second and he wouldn't even need the razor to do it. He raised his hand, then lowered it. Any other vampire glaring so intently at his neck would be cause for concern. Not Raziel.

"Lips together." Raziel pulled a face, and it took Dan a moment to realise he was expected to copy. He closed his eyes when the metal touched the skin just below his nose. A few swift, businesslike strokes and it moved to his chin. 

Dan opened his eyes again. Raziel was half frowning in concentration, apparently oblivious to a stray blob of shaving foam clinging to his hair. Dan couldn't help smiling, which was unfortunate given the position of the razor.

"Ow!"

Raziel's finger was already pressed to the small cut. "You are a danger to yourself and others."

"Sorry," Dan mumbled.

"Let that be a lesson to you. It could have been at your throat." Raziel took his hand away and looked. "Be thankful it was only a small nick."

It was almost invisible after he wiped the blood away with a damp tissue. Raziel absentmindedly licked the red stain on his finger and made a face. Shaving foam did nothing to enhance the flavour.

"Can you sit still for two more minutes?" he asked.

"I'll try."

"Well done."

It was a little less than a minute later when Raziel kissed Daniel's forehead and passed him a towel.

"I trust you can take it from here." Claws clicked on the tiles as he left the bathroom.

By the time Dan had combed his hair into something approaching respectable and found an uncreased shirt, Raziel had almost every article of makeup in the house spread across the vanity. Still half dressed, he waved a couple of lipstick tubes at Dan.

"Plum or crimson, do you think?"

Dan shrugged helplessly. "I think Kiya was wearing purple at breakfast. She said something about the society objecting to women in red."

Raziel's sharp toothed grin was visible in the mirror. "Crimson it is."


End file.
